~||«§V§»||~

I shall make upon a tempest wind,
the howling lore of kin-dling Kin.
Naked as the growling lush,
exposed to gnarling mangle-brush;
cut deep a-depths~ a ghoul's ravine,
a chasm winding labyrinthine.

The cleric scolds the child's eye,
a vision purer shan't comply.
To each and every soul tis own,
the Majesty alone is known;
what cannot speak or read of such,
we walk alone, to staff we clutch.

Such passing is a bent display,
the overarching ******'s ray~
of light and luster gleams too much;
a subtle sense and gently touch.

The Maker's Mark as center thrice;
completed cross and circled square,
a lighter mist must walk you there.
Through hidden and unveiled descent,
the loving heart must twice repent.

So thorough bound~
the Hallowed Ground and dusty gems
wash clean and clear;
transmit the sound~
a vibrant round,
resounding through the atmosphere.

Like patterned rings and symphonies,
resolved upon each leveled wave;
a sonance much like paradise,
a fortitude as bolden-brave.

The House that thrills the Living Word,
enshrouds the saints upon their throne;
whose gardens groom a rich bouquet,
a fragrant mist of plush array;

Illuminates the Sacred Hall,
in reverence of which moves us all;
in song and dance, Eternally,
I leave you here to rest in me.

~||«§V§»||~